


Once Upon A Time...

by beeswaxing



Series: Trophy Wife [10]
Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 13:04:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6986242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beeswaxing/pseuds/beeswaxing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where it all began on that lovely summer’s day… Seventeen year old Shim Changmin, best man to fellow top supermodel Kim Jaejoong, is feeling out of sorts at the prospect of losing the only family he’s ever known since he was fourteen. Unable to take it out on the older groom, he finds his next closest victim. The groom’s best man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once Upon A Time...

**Author's Note:**

> This is a flashback to when they first met and the events that followed... :O

 

“Will you please calm the fuck down before I slap you?”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Try me,” comes the frosty reply. Changmin glares at his best friend while sucking his sore finger. Jaejoong has been a nervous wreck for the last two hours and the teenager has just about had it. He’d flown back from Japan especially for the wedding because his stupid best friend decided he couldn’t wait an extra two weeks to get married when Changmin is finally back is Seoul for good. No, of course not. That would be too much to ask of the raven haired supermodel currently glaring back at him.

“It’s my damn wedding day. The least you could do is be supportive.”

Changmin’s jaw drops at the words, but Jaejoong doesn’t even try to look sheepish at his words. No, of course not. His brow is raised in challenge instead.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? I turned down two photo shoots. Two! Just to be here for your sorry ass. Do you know how much shit I got into because of you? I had to talk my way out of being fired by being a super bitch that rivals even your infuriating no good ass that I’m sure I just about surpassed you as being the most difficult supermodel to work with. Thank god I’m smart and know how to read my fucking contract because otherwise they would have tried to pull one over me. As it is, I’ve got to pay a fine for missing those photo shoots. A fucking fine. Are you planning on paying it for me Mr Soon-To-Be-A-Trophy-Fucking-Wife?”

“Is this what it’s about? Money? For fuck’s—“

“Shut up, Jae. I’m warning you. Don’t complete that sentence because I swear to god you have annoyed me enough today that I am ready to punch you. And trust me, no amount of bb cream will cover the shiner I’ll give you. Remember Paris?”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Jaejoong’s jaw drops, beautiful doe eyes widening in horror as he takes an involuntary step back from his taller friend.

Changmin simply quirks an eyebrow, before turning to look at his finger. He had been trying to pin the flower to Jaejoong’s lapel when he had pricked himself because the man just could not keep still. He’s been chasing Jaejoong around the room for a good hour, trying to get him dressed and ready and everything. He’s even been relegated to makeup artist because his dear darling bitch of a best friend had screamed at the poor girl who had been personally hired and approved of by himself because she had a zit. 

A fucking zit.

But apparently, the zit disease is transferable and Jaejoong hadn’t wanted her anywhere near him. And so Changmin, with his flawless skin that Jaejoong bemoans enviously about constantly, is _it_. 

Makeup noona, coordi noona, hairstylist noona, even his fucking cock shaker because god forbid Jaejoong get his manicured hands dirty on this _wonderful_ day; you name it and Changmin is _it_.

Changmin hates being _it_ , but this is his best friend. Despite his words, he loves the infuriating barely adult, and woe unto anyone who hurts him. Basically, the way he sees it, he’s the only one in the whole wide world allowed to hurt Jaejoong. Anyone else who tries will meet his fists.

But of course, Jaejoong doesn’t need to know this.

“What if he doesn’t turn up?”

Changmin looks up sharply. “What?”

“I saw his best friend arrive from the window, but Micky wasn’t with him like he’s supposed to be. What if he doesn’t turn up?”

Changmin’s brow furrows as he looks at his friend who has moved to the window and is currently staring out it, down at the busy street, with limos parked round the block. This is the wedding of the year, Micky Park Yoochun, CEO of Park Industries, marrying the young supermodel whom he had met at a chance encounter in LA of all places after a Victoria’s Secret fashion show.

Despite his age, Kim Jaejoong is well known in East Asia and beyond for his feminine features and diva attitude. The man is a royal pain in the ass and a bitch from hell, and he enjoys being one. He thrives on drama which is strange because Changmin hates drama. The unlikely pair are a force to be reckoned within the modeling world, and most people know it.

But clearly not a certain Micky Park Yoochun.

Changmin has a rather jaded view of love, viewing it as completely disposable, and he knows that Jaejoong shares his outlook. They trade on their looks, and when you do that, the best you can get is infatuation, never love. Love is for fools. Love doesn’t put food on the table. And love certainly didn’t save his parents from that accident.

Alright, so perhaps he’s over-reaching a little but seeing Jaejoong dressed up in his wedding finery strikes an arrow through Changmin’s heart. 

His sole remaining family. 

The only family he’s had since he was fourteen is starting a new life without him. Will their friendship still remain or has Jaejoong already changed?

“Do you love the man?”

“Are you insane?”

“I had to check, because I’m pretty sure you should know he’s marrying you for your face and body.”

“You are the worst best man ever. What a horrid thing to say to someone getting married!” Jaejoong’s voice is loud, but there is a tinge of amusement rather than heat underlying his words. He is far from angry, for he is definitely entering this marriage with his eyes wide open. 

“Have you changed already that you want me to fucking lie to you? Do you really want to go into this on false pretenses?”

Jaejoong shrugs as he checks his nails, buffing them nonchalantly on his lapel before sticking one of them into his mouth, grazing the tip over the edges of his teeth.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you I’m marrying him for his substantial bank account? Seriously, I don’t care who I marry as long as he’s good looking enough. I’d marry his friend to be honest. One rich old man is as good as another. I’m just fucking annoyed that he’s late. If he leaves me at the fucking altar in front of all these people, I will personally cut his goddamn balls off with a spork.”

“A spork?” Changmin stares at his friend, and they both suddenly burst out laughing. They are back to being the seventeen year old teenagers they are as they laugh hard. 

“I’m glad to see you’re in high spirits,” a deep voice interrupts, amusement evident.

But Changmin is far from amused. 

Far, far, from amused.

The man’s voice has just given him goosebumps of the wrong sort and he doesn’t like his reaction one bit. In fact, he doesn’t like it so much that he barely even wants to turn around to acknowledge that smooth voice with a delicious twist in it, a teasing lilt that has his hackles up.

His nipples are hard.

And the owner of that voice has managed to wake his perpetually slumbering cock.

If Jaejoong’s expression is anything to go by, he really doesn’t want to fucking turn around. That very appreciative half smirk the cool blond wears when he likes what he sees.

“Get the fuck out.” 

Yunho’s eyebrow goes up at the snarl from the tall man who has yet to turn around. His gaze slides over to Jaejoong who simply shrugs. 

Strange. 

“Whoever you are, sir. Get the fuck out. I know every single one of Jae’s family and you aren’t one of them so by default, you have no fucking business being here. Get out.” Changmin’s voice is controlled as he struggles to fight a losing battle against his body for a similar level of control. The fight or flight instinct is rearing its head and he cannot explain it. The suddenness and inexplicability of his reaction is bothering him on a profound level. Coupled with his best friend’s growing smirk, Changmin knows he’s in trouble.

One sentence and he’s already lost, and he hasn’t even seen the man.

Fuck.

Jaejoong smirks, sliding a knowing glance over at his best friend. Changmin is normally quiet in company. He doesn’t say anything more than necessary, and when they’re together, all the bitchiness comes from Jaejoong not the younger man who is more than content to merely keep a poker face or look disdainfully down off the end of his perfect nose as if whoever is speaking is not worth the dirt on his shoes. The young supermodel is respectful to a point, and he only brings out his more colorful vocabulary around those close to him, so for him to swear not once, but several times in a very short span of time is interesting to the blond.

He turns his gaze to the gorgeous man leaning indolently against the door frame wearing a curious smile, his breadth practically filling up the entire doorway. Jaejoong resists the urge to fan himself, for there is handsome, and then there’s this man. His own husband-to-be is a handsome fucker but there’s just something about Jung Yunho. Micky leans a little towards a more gentlemanly type of handsome. Sophisticated and civilized if you must, though he is so greasy that Jaejoong sometimes wonders how the hell polite company puts up with him. 

His own best friend on the other hand reminds Jaejoong of a jungle cat. Predatory yet hiding under a very thinly masked veneer of sophistication. He knows from Micky that the man worked his way up the corporate ladder. Ruthless might be an understatement when it comes to him, for he allowed nothing and no one to get in his way. His only saving grace, Micky had confided in him one night, is the fact that he is very loyal to those he cares about. He could’ve easily subsumed Micky’s company, despite its size, for Park Industries had been floundering. Instead, he’d shored up the company with his own, taking a huge risk in the process, and making sure that Micky learned the ropes and learned it fast, before setting him free.

Jaejoong hadn’t met him then, and had superficially joked about Jung Yunho being like a dog. 

A panther might be more accurate, as the supermodel appreciates the perfectly tailed black suit on the man. There is a damn good reason why he chose to marry Micky and not Yunho. 

Micky can be controlled. 

Yunho? He feels a little sorry for whoever ends up marrying the man. 

However, that aside, the man’s character is unquestionable to the young supermodel who trades on his looks. He uses his face to figure out, albeit superficially, what a person is like, and he’d been all dolled up from the roots of his hair to the tips of his toes the day he finally met Jung Yunho. The man had checked him out and then some of course, but it halted the minute he was introduced as Micky’s fiancé. It’s like a polite, congenial shutter drops down, and while the older man keeps a watchful eye, he also keeps his distance. He knows for a fact that the older man finds his motives questionable, but he holds his tongue. As far as he knows, Yunho hasn’t even tried to talk Micky out of the marriage and he scores well on Jaejoong’s card for that alone for he knows countless others have tried. 

Jaejoong transfers his gaze back to Changmin, noting his tense body. His best friend is truly behaving oddly, and he has a feeling it has something to do with Yunho but he has no idea how when the two have never met. Isn’t he the one who’s supposed to have cold feet and act weirdly, not his own best man?

“You’re going to be walking down the aisle with him,” Jaejoong finally speaks, only to start laughing as he realizes that the younger man’s weird behavior really is directly related to Yunho when he sees Changmin’s eyes widen in horror. “That’s the other best man.”

“He is unworthy,” comes the clipped reply, making Yunho’s eyebrow rise even further as he wonders what the hell he did to offend this person he’s never seen before in his life.

Before the older man can formulate a response, the man turns, and Yunho’s chokes on his next breath.

Changmin’s voice is cold, his eyes betraying nothing as he stares down the older man who has stepped forward from the doorway, his mouth opening and closing but not really doing much else. Great, he’s attracted to a fucking idiot. A gorgeous fucking god of an idiot.

But an idiot nonetheless.

_A demigod too…_ an insistent voice within him whispers. Changmin is well used to good looking men and women, constantly surrounded by them, they’re practically a dime a dozen.

But this man…

He watches the man mimicking a fish, his own features perfectly frozen in an expression of disdain, as his brain tries his best to convince himself.

An idiot. 

Changmin holds onto that last thought firmly as he glares at the man still imitating a guppy. “Unless you’re here to deliver news of Micky’s death, because that’s the only fucking reason I will accept for his tardiness, get out.”

“Changminnie…” Jaejoong has to bite back his laughter as his best friend practically glares holes into the other man. “He has a right to be here.”

“No, he doesn’t. His job as best man is to make fucking sure the groom is here. Do you see your groom, hyung?” Changmin looks pointedly around the room. “I don’t see him. Some best man he is,” the teenager sneers unnecessarily which makes Jaejoong’s smile widen even more. 

The blond supermodel had been marginally worried about how Changmin would hold his own against Yunho whose smirks make even Jaejoong forget his name momentarily, but Changmin’s discomfort ensures his survival, for his defenses are up so high, he’s practically encased in Fort Knox.

He’ll talk to his friend alone when he gets a chance, and find out what broomstick got stuck up his ass, but in the meantime, he’s certain the young supermodel will be fine. 

Yunho finally manages to stop working his jaw unnecessarily, snapping it shut and clenching it as he fights to school his features. He feels like an unlettered schoolboy, with zero ability to control his reaction to anything. He feels like he just reached puberty last week and anything attractive is wont to undo him.

Micky did warn him that Jaejoong comes with a stunning brunette. 

Warn being the operative word, for his friend had waxed on rather unhappily how he feels unworthy as hell whenever his fiancé’s best friend turns his gaze on him. Apparently the man has the ability to say nothing, and yet everything, without needing to vocalise a single word.

It’s all in the eyes he says.

The complete opposite to Kim Jaejoong.

Taller.

His beauty leans more towards handsome compared to the ethereal blond supermodel.

Handsome and untouchable. 

The older man’s perusal of the younger man finally meets his eyes.

And Yunho finds his first smile since recovering from being poleaxed. 

His smile turns into a smirk when he sees the flare in the other man’s dark eyes.

He licks his lips, amused now when the younger man squares his jaw, clenching it so tightly that the beautiful lines of his face become more prominent.

More accentuated.

Making him even more stunning. 

Yunho has never seen a more perfect face. His features are almost painfully symmetrical, and it’s no fucking wonder he, along with Kim Jaejoong are one of the most sought after supermodels in East Asia and beyond. In fact, as Yunho switches his gaze quickly to the beautifully made up, doll-like, picture perfect Kim-soon-to-be-Park Jaejoong, he realizes he vastly prefers the brunette. 

The twitch in his pants make him aware of his little problem with the man.

“How much makeup are you wearing?” he asks the first thing that comes to his mind as he moves his gaze back to the tall supermodel who visibly bristles at his question. The urge to calm the easily agitated young man is strong, but he wants to keep him a little off balance. He knows a mask when he sees one, and this gorgeous man is trying very hard to hold onto his.

Question is, why?

“You’d need a paint scraper to get all this crap off my face,” Jaejoong answers, though he knows the question was not directed at him. This tension between Yunho and Changmin is a welcome distraction from the fact that he is trying not to mentally disembowel his tardy future husband. He needs the distraction, and he mentally reminds himself to apologize to his best friend for taking his amusement at his expense. “My Changminnie hasn’t had time to put on any makeup. Not that the bastard needs it. I don’t think pimples even know they should be plaguing him.”

“He probably glared them away,” Yunho drawls as he steps back to once again lean against the doorway. He sticks a hand into his front pocket, feeling his cock through the material and he uncharacteristically gives in to the urge to stroke a heavy finger over what he can feel.

And oh how he fucking wishes it was the defiant brunette’s tongue and not his finger.

And his _little_ problem, just got a great deal larger.

He’s never been so instantly attracted to anyone in his life, and the feeling is foreign. For most of his hook-ups or relationships, it’s always been a slow burn, or really, no burn at all, just a need to satiate and then be done with it. He’s always too busy for anything serious, and despite his show to the contrary, Jung Yunho has little patience for people in general. 

But this is different.

He wants to taste.

He wants to touch.

He wants to possess.

He’d never ever thought of another human being as property. Running in the crowd he does, he knows a lot of his peers treat their spouses like chattel, not as equals. Even Micky, one of the most easygoing businessmen he knows, had referred to Jaejoong as a trophy wife. There to look pretty and to raise his prestige and the envy of their peers, and nothing more.

Yunho is certain the cool blond supermodel is mercenary enough to be absolutely fine with it for he is trading up in life to being the wife of a very wealthy man. All he needs to do is keep the war paint on. 

For the first time in his 33 years, Yunho is seriously considering taking a closer look at his friend’s approach to something. A trophy wife doesn’t seem like such a bad idea.

Especially if that trophy looks like _Changminnie_. 

Changmin wants to slap the smirk right off the other man’s face. 

It’s too fucking much. 

His only consolation to the whole sorry affair right now is the fact that in his haste in making sure Jaejoong is ready, he hasn’t had time to fix his own outfit, and his shirt is untucked, hanging down rather messily, and covering the painfully obvious evidence of his inability to control his own fucking body.

He is tongue-tied. That much is clear. There are so many comebacks in his head, but his tongue is heavy and refuses to work. All he can do is make an irritated sound at the back of his throat that sounds so fucking lame he closes his eyes…

…And imagines his tongue licking at Micky’s best man’s sinfully full bottom lip.

Fucking no.

“He is rather good at glaring at things,” Jaejoong nods agreeably. “His bite is definitely worse than his bark though, because he doesn’t ever bark, so there’s no warning. Consider this yours, Yunho-ssi.” The blond smirks.

“Oh, he bites does he?” Yunho infuses a wealth of meaning into his words, eyebrow cocked as he hears Jaejoong chuckling wickedly. The eighteen year old soon-to-be wife of Micky Park Yoochun is worldly as fuck. Almost too worldly for Yunho’s tastes, but Micky is more than satisfied and that’s the important thing.

His tastes…run towards tall brunettes with flashing eyes and legs from here to forever.

“I don’t want to get rabies,” Changmin finally speaks, snapping his words out as he moves, turning to glare at his best friend. “I’m going to the bathroom,” he declares as he storms towards the door.

It takes him three seconds to realize he’s going to have to get past the imposing man all but taking up the doorway.

A man who doesn’t look like he’s inclined to move anytime soon, as he crosses his arms over his chest, his smirk widening.

Damn his well-cut suit.

Damn the way it hugs at his shoulders and arms.

Just damn the man to hell in general as Changmin draws himself up to his full height.

And he doesn’t bother hiding his glee when he realizes that the annoying fucking man is _shorter_ than he is.

“Move it, short stuff.”

“It’s not the size that matters, little one, but what you do with it.” Yunho replies easily, not at all bothered by the posturing young man who still looks a little ruffled. The urge to reach out and mess up his thick dark hair is very strong. Yunho really wants to touch him.

To gentle him.

To soothe him.

And he really has no fucking idea why.

“Give over, Jung. You haven’t seen him angry, and he’s pretty close to furious right now. Get out of his way and then come and tell me why your fucking best friend is late for his own damn wedding. If he doesn’t turn up in the next fifteen minutes, I’m going to marry you.”

Yunho stares _up_ into the glittering eyes of the annoyed man, barely hearing a word though the man before him clearly does as he turns, twisting his body towards his friend as he grits out words so stern it surprises Yunho. 

“You are not fucking marrying this asshole, Kim Jaejoong.” 

And with that, he doesn’t bother waiting for Yunho to get out of the way as he shoves the man aside. 

The tall young man is stronger than he looks, and Yunho fights to recover his balance as he stumbles against the wall as the brunette blows past him.

“What did I do?”

Jaejoong shrugs as he turns to look in the mirror, eyes narrowing critically at his reflection. 

“Who knows? He’ll come around. I’ll talk to him later if he’s still in a funk. I made him miss two photoshoots and he has to pay a fine, and he doesn’t like spending money unnecessarily so he’s probably still mad at me about that. You’re just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He tucks a curl of hair behind his ear before he turns around to look at Yunho. “I was serious by the way.”

“About?” Yunho turns to look out the door, down the hallway towards the closed bathroom door.

Jaejoong notices his inattention, and a thoughtful look crosses his face. 

“Nothing.”

—

“He’s an insufferable ass.”

“He hasn’t even done anything.”

“Exactly! He should be making sure your groom is here, but he isn’t. Instead he’s hanging around here like a fucking dog waiting for a bone. Well, fuck him.”

Jaejoong rolls his eyes as he steps forward to grab the irate supermodel pacing in front of him. “It’s my wedding and I’m the one who should be agitated, so why am I trying to calm you down?”

Changmin stops dead in his tracks, turning towards his shorter best friend, a beautiful, albeit tinged with evil, smile breaks across his face. 

“You should throw things.”

Jaejoong pauses in his patting down of his friend’s suit. “What?”

The tall brunette’s smile widens. “Call him back in and then throw…” he trails off, looking around the room. His eyes land on the absolutely laden dresser, covered in all manner of potions and lotions, plus a hair dryer or two. “That!” he points gleefully. “Call him back in and throw all that at him.”

Jaejoong steps back to take a look at his friend, shaking his head, he chuckles quietly. “He really got under your skin, didn’t he? Tell me why you don’t want me to marry him?”

“Because he’s an ass!”

“He has a damn nice ass, yes.” Jaejoong chooses to misunderstand as he smirks. He’s facing the door, and it opens just as Changmin chooses that inopportune moment to tell his friend exactly what he thinks about _that man’s_ ass.

“Hah! There! So what if he has a nice ass? You don’t even like ass! That’s a good reason for you not to marry him, right there. _You don’t like ass!_ ”

“Yes, I do.”

“No,” Changmin’s tone becomes a tad patronizing as he pats his blond friend on the head, “You don’t. You like people who like _your_ ass, but you don’t want his ass. Though really, he’s probably a bottom.”

Yunho, who’d been silenced by Jaejoong’s bemused expression, opens his mouth to speak, wrongly thinking that they’re talking about his best friend who, as luck might have it, is about ten minutes away.

“Why do you think he’s a bottom?”

“I don’t know!” Changmin throws up his hands in agitation. “He looks like one!”

“Jung Yunho _looks_ like a bottom?” Jaejoong shakes his head, shooting another glance over Changmin’s shoulder at the gaping man staring back at him. “I think you need your eyes checked, honey.” He pats Changmin’s cheek lovingly. “And while I wouldn’t normally make assumptions, I’d say he is exclusively a top.”

“Bottom!”

“Top.” Jaejoong is trying not to laugh as he watches Yunho stepping fully into the suite and shutting the door behind him.

“Bottom, damn it! I don’t care what he looks like, he’s a bottom to me!”

“Do you want a demonstration?”

Changmin whirls around in shock, his ankles locking, tangling his feet. He flails, eyes widening as he sees his life flashing by as the floor rushes to meet him, unable to stop the distressed sound that escapes his throat.

But he never hits it.

Strong arms catch him, and he finds his face pressed against a very firm chest. His legs are still somewhat entangled, and he is leaning fully against the other man.

A man who smells so fucking masculine, he has to stop from snarling to save himself. 

Jaejoong’s broken laughter is echoing around the room as the supermodel pats his best friend on the ass, and steps away from the couple. He is amused to note that Yunho’s expression mirrors Changmin’s.

They’re both in shock.

Yunho clears his throat, hands still holding the other man’s shoulders. His grip is not tight, as he gently pushes the supermodel upright. The man is like a deadweight, as if incapable of holding his own weight and Yunho uses his own body to prop the taller man. Changmin doesn’t seem too inclined to cooperate. 

His hand is splayed across Yunho’s chest as he finally pushes himself away.

In actuality, Changmin tries to push Yunho away, but it’s like pushing a brick wall and he ends up stumbling backwards instead from the force he’d used.

A hand catches him around the waist, slipping underneath his jacket to press against the small of his back, the hand very large and firm.

“I’ve got you. Take your time.”

Changmin’s breath is stuck in his throat, and he can hear his best friend laughing at him from somewhere behind him but he just cannot focus. He isn’t sure if his hands are attached to his body.

Or even whether his head is attached to his neck. 

His tongue still works just fine though, albeit heavy and thick in his mouth.

He licks at his bottom lip, noting how the man follows his movement.

It sends a strange shiver coursing through his body and he is fully aware of his cock.

Question is, did the man notice it too?

\---

“Do you understand the concept of personal space?” Changmin grits out of the corner of his mouth as he forces a smile for the camera. Jaejoong has decided to do everything backwards, always needing to be different, or as Changmin had bluntly put it to his best friend after an hour of this nonsense, _difficult_. 

They’re busy taking photos and making half of all the movers and shakers in East Asia wait patiently in the Ruby Hall of The Shilla Seoul. The entire hotel has been booked out by the Park Wedding, and the Ruby Hall is merely the venue for the solemnization ceremony. The dinner itself will be held in the Grand Ballroom, aptly named Dynasty for it’s clear Jaejoong is determined to forge his very own Park-Kim Dynasty if he has his way. 

“Perfectly,” comes the cheerful response as the man takes a step _closer_.

“This is not opposites day, no matter what Jaejoong might think,” Changmin bites out, resisting the urge to elbow the man away from his side. He feels really bad for wishing it, but he can’t wait for the damn solemnization ceremony to be over and done with, and then they have five free hours before he needs to make an appearance at the dinner preparations. Due to his hectic schedule, this is the first rest Changmin has had in months, and Jaejoong had promised not to bother him for the five hours they have. Both Jaejoong and Micky will be taking photographs with the guests and then around Seoul, but Changmin had been given a free pass to leave. 

Jaejoong sends a look over his shoulder at the couple. Changmin might think he’s being quiet, but his barely contained irritation can be heard by both he and his future husband. Micky, late because he’d misplaced his fucking speech and spent all that time hunting for the damn thing, also turns around to watch the two.

He however gets distracted by a pale elfin ear, delicately curved and just begging to be nibbled.

Micky Park Yoochun leans forward for a taste, only to get an elbow to the sternum that stops him in his tracks.

“Later. Go check the photos. I have a feeling Changmin is not looking his best.”

“It’s our wedding, not his. Who cares if he doesn’t look great?” Micky grumbles as he reluctantly lets go of the teenager, and waves the cameraman over. 

“Keep talking like that and you’ll find yourself all alone in the Shilla Suite tonight.” Jaejoong responds flatly as he looks into the camera. He wrinkles his nose, pouting at the photos he’s presented with, and the obviously squabbling couple behind him. The cameraman had even managed to catch Changmin mid grimace as he leans away from a smirking Jung Yunho.

He sighs. Maybe he should really just get it over and done with and let Changmin rest. It’s his wedding and he’s still looking out for the younger boy. Jaejoong is fully aware that it bugs Micky, but tough shit for him because Changmin is still number one in Jaejoong’s heart.

Just not in his pants.

“Alright, fine. Let’s get this over and done with. Minnie-ah,” Jaejoong twists to look at the sulking teen. “Just the ceremony and then you can go ok? Can you smile for me, please?”

Changmin steps forward and away from Yunho’s insufferable presence, glad to be rid of the obnoxious man. He can practically smell the fool all over his clothes. He’s going to have to have a thorough shower just to be able to sleep because he’s fucking sure the man’s scent is practically in his pores. He can only be thankful that the ceremony will put them at opposite sides of the aisle. He has no idea how much more of this he can take.

Every inhalation tightens his balls and makes his cock heavy.

It’s really pissing him off.

He links arms with the shorter man, tugging him away from his husband-to-be without so much as a backward glance. His dipped head and whispered words against Jaejoong’s ear sends a peal of laughter from the gorgeous blond that makes Yunho smile and Micky frown.

The two older man follow in the wake of the two younger men, one still scowling while the other is admiring the length of a certain supermodel’s legs.

“Do you think I’m ever going to win?”

“You’re marrying him, aren’t you? He was only recently named the ultimate ullzzang in some magazine. I didn’t read the article but he was on the cover so I’d say you won something.”

“Yes, but why do I get the distinct impression that I’m still trailing behind that pit bull he calls friend?”

“Pitbull? Changmin?”

“He’s all snarl and not much else.”

Yunho laughs, making the two men ahead of him turn around curiously. One is smiling, and the other, scowling.

Unbeknowst to both pairs of men, the photographer takes that moment to snap a photo, capturing the moment.

A frowning Micky Park Yoochun is balanced out by a smiling Kim Jaejoong.

The clearly amused Jung Yunho is also balanced out by another supermodel.

A thundercloud by the name of Shim Changmin.

—

Changmin is trying his damnedest to look away.

He really is. 

But the man’s gaze is too much. He can practically feel it all over his body, and there’s absolutely nothing he can do. He’s effectively chained to the spot, unable to do anything about the insufferable, obnoxious, too fucking attractive for his own goddamn good, Jung Yunho. The man’s smirk should entitle him a place in hell just for the effect it has. 

Changmin shifts his weight again, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. He’s not even listening to the marriage celebrant going on and on about the virtues of marriage, as he fights a losing battle with his traitorous body. There are no bouquets for him to hold, so all he can do is clasp his hands in front of his crotch, and hope no one notices the tent in his pants. His eyes are resolutely fixed on Yunho’s own hands, similarly clasped in front of his crotch on the other side of the aisle. The hair on the back of his neck has been standing pretty much since the moment he and Yunho walked down the fucking aisle together. 

The man’s presence is overwhelmingly masculine. Changmin felt it acutely as they made the really fucking long walk together. A veteran on the catwalk, the teenager had tried to channel his supermodel training into the walk, more accustomed to stalking down the runway instead of strolling at a sedate pace.

And sedate is definitely the pace set by the infuriating Jung Yunho, for the older man had kept his steps measured and very, very, very fucking slow. Changmin had to tamp down the impulse to slip his hand in the man’s elbow and yank him down the aisle.

Well, that was the first part of the aisle, for the impatient teenager had just about had enough by the time they were halfway through, indeed slipping his hand in the crook of the man’s elbow, and ignoring the husky chuckle from the insufferable man as he squeezes warningly for the man to pick up his damn pace.

To his annoyance, instead of picking up the pace, Yunho reaches over and places his very large hand over the teenager’s instead, effectively holding him in place as they continue their painfully sedate walk down the aisle. Changmin had been unable to help himself as he utters balefully under his breath, keeping his mouth closed and speaking out of the corner of it at the impossible man who’s held him captive.

_”Are you a fucking octogenarian or something? Speed it up.”_

_“A big word for someone so young.”_

_“Typical of the elderly to point out youthfulness as if it’s a black mark against them.”_

_“Smile, brat. Everyone’s watching.”_

_“Fuck you.”_

_“I’d rather be fucking you.”_

Changmin had almost stopped dead right there and then in the middle of the damn aisle as he swallows hard. His eyes almost fucking cross at the mental image that brings and he is really starting to loathe the senile old businessman even more.

A part of him wants to punch the man for his audacity.

The other part wants to clear the room and tell Yunho to take him wherever the fuck he wants.

Neither part wins.

And so they keep walking.

Sedately.

There had been a small moment at the end of the long, mentally arduous walk when Changmin had forgotten that he’s the best man and not the groom, and had paused longer than necessary in front of the celebrant, staring expectantly up at him while the man stared right back at him in confusion. He knows that Yunho hadn’t missed that slip-up if the man’s low chuckle and condescending pat of his hand is anything to go by, not to mention his _I want to taste you first, brat_. If he could punch the man, he really fucking would give him the shiner he threatened Jaejoong with earlier that morning. 

His every reaction is a knee jerk defense for Yunho throws him off balance like no other. His attraction to the man is almost animalistic, so rooted in instinct that Changmin is even more bitchy than usual because of it, for he doesn’t know what to do with how his body reacts to the man’s proximity.

Actually, forget proximity, as it’s already way past that.

Every nuanced word sends a lance of pleasure shooting through him.

To his credit, the teenager fights back with whatever shreds of his willpower he has left.

And he’s putting up a damn good fight in his opinion.

It’s just that he’s also smart enough to know he’d already lost the battle long before he even realized he was in one.

What’s left is basically a futile resistance, but the supermodel is damned if he lets the older man win so easily.

If Jung Yunho wants him, he’s going to have to fucking work for it. 

Changmin watches as Yunho starts to stroke his thumb with his other index finger. His hands are still clasped but now there’s movement, and the supermodel knows, as well as he knows his own name, that the man is doing it on purpose. The strokes are so slow and languid, nothing at all subconscious about it, and he knows if he looks up, that knowing smirk will greet him. He can feel his body tightening even more, coils of imagined pleasure rolling low in his belly. 

Not that he knows what it should feel like, having someone touching his body like that, but every stroke of Yunho’s finger against his own thumb is so deliberate that Changmin can practically feel it on his own skin. 

In fact, he can, for he has started to subconsciously mimic the man.

Yunho cannot take his eyes off the stubborn beauty standing opposite him, the supermodel with his back ramrod straight and his pouty mouth pressed into a thin almost unattractive line.

_Almost_ being the key word for Yunho is still painfully attracted.

And he knows full well the attraction is mutual. 

He can practically smell the man’s arousal, and the supermodel isn’t fooling anyone with his perfectly placed hands.

Not when Yunho is doing the exact same thing for the exact same reason.

“By the power vested in me, I now declare you married.”

If that wasn’t enough to snap Yunho from his pleasurable contemplation of the tall young man before him, the resultant whoop from Jaejoong does it.

He looks up just in time to see the unmistakable and completely foreign, fond expression on Changmin’s face as he gazes at the smirking blond. A smile that softens his features so considerably that Yunho feels an unwelcome tug somewhere in the vicinity of his chest rather than his pants. The businessman blinks, shaking himself from the odd feeling, but it doesn’t dissipate for Changmin still hasn’t lost the unguarded expression as Jaejoong blows a kiss towards him, before he walks back down the aisle, arm in arm with his new husband, and now officially Park Jaejoong.

Changmin is still smiling when he meets Yunho’s dark eyes, and it takes him a fair few seconds to realize this is not a man he should be smiling at.

Yunho watches in fascination as the supermodel smoothes out his face. It’s as if the smile never happened as his mouth flattens back out, his expression back to being aloof and disdainful instead as they both move to fall in step behind the blissfully wedded couple practically running the down the aisle ahead of them, their laughter coaxing their usually staid and stoic peers to smile and laugh with them.

All except for their paired best friends walking behind them.

They don’t speak, their sleeves brushing with every step.

Every step, Changmin tries to move away.

And the next step always brings Yunho right along with him, till the supermodel is practically bumping into the people along the aisle trying to get away from the insistent man dogging his steps.

“Personal space. You really need to fucking learn it,” Changmin growls under his breath as he is once again feeling trapped.

“My instructions were to escort you back down the aisle. I can’t do that if you’re three steps away.”

“Funny that. I’m sure I’m escorting you.” Changmin smirks as he straightens to his full height, which, given his shoes, gives almost a clean two inches on Yunho. “Short stuff,” he adds a little snidely.

“Height doesn’t mean much.”

“A short man would say that, wouldn’t he?”

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

“And much too expensive for the likes of you.”

“Are you a whore, too?”

Changmin doesn’t take the bait, eyes still on his gleeful best friend. “Perhaps. But you can’t afford me.” He turns then, eyes glittering as he eyes the older man. “And if you imply Jaejoong is a whore again, I will break your face in front of everyone here and I don’t fucking care if you throw me into jail for it.”

He ends his threat with a smile, a rather scary one that actually reaches his eyes and Yunho has no doubt the supermodel would not only punch him, but take a fair lot of pleasure from it too. His loyalty is admirable. Yunho has noticed that the one thing that will get Changmin up and ready with his arms swinging is shade on Jaejoong. Yunho had purposefully said what he did to see how the supermodel would react, and he’d been a little surprised to see the aspersions cast on his own character completely ignored as he threatens Yunho for the aspersions he’d cast on Jaejoong’s.

Yunho decides to back down for now. Getting the man riled is not going to get him into his bed.

“Easy there. Micky would probably join you.”

“Good man, your friend.”

“And what about me?”

“What about you?” Changmin asks dismissively as they reach the end of the aisle, moving away from Yunho’s side. He heaves a sigh of relief when Yunho doesn’t follow as he snags a flute of champagne from a passing waiter who smirks at him.

Changmin returns the smirk automatically, winking even, making the waiter chuckle as he moves away to offer his wares to the other guests.

“You’d rather have that waiter?”

Changmin resists the urge to stomp his foot in frustration. The heel of his boot to the toe of Yunho’s fifteen hundred dollar Italian leather shoes sounds like a good idea right then. The man really can’t leave him alone.

“My tastes aren’t expensive.”

“They’re indiscriminate. That man’s a slob. He wouldn’t know what to do with you,” Yunho is unable to hide the lacing of disgust in his voice as he follows Changmin through the crowd.

“But I know what to do with him and that’s what matters isn’t it, Yunho-yah?” Changmin replies without considering his words, eyes on his beaming best friend as he tries once again to ignore the man who appears to have no idea when to quit. He is used to bantering and flirting with males and females alike. It’s mostly lip service of course, since most of the males in their industry are like him, and the females are of no interest whatsoever to him. However, so accustomed he is to the automatic predilection to flirt, that he’d infused a far more suggestive lilt in his tone than he intended, even dropping his voice that it comes out huskier than usual as he keeps the back of his blond best friend’s head in his sights. Calling Yunho by name wasn’t a conscious choice, but the effect turns their conversation intimate in an instant. 

Something Yunho isn’t prepared for. 

Changmin’s ease in calling him so familiarly despite only having met that morning has thrown the industrialist off balance. Barely anyone speaks to him so informally. The only one who does is Micky and he’s known the man almost three decades.

Not three hours.

—

The bath is hot.

Much hotter than he’s used to but he wants to sleep, and the heat will pretty much ensure he will sleep soundly, and hopefully, immediately.

Jaejoong had allowed him to leave pretty much instantly. The blond beauty had finally turned, eyes meeting Changmin’s immediately for the tall supermodel hadn’t let his best friend out of his sight. A beatific smile on his face as he pushes through the mess, leaving his new husband behind as he fights the congratulating crowd to get to his Changminnie, making good on his promise as he told Changmin he has _five_ blissful hours of not being bothered. And then proceeded to kiss the bemused brunette full on the mouth in front of everyone. 

Changmin wonders if Jaejoong will ever change. The man likes stirring up drama wherever he goes, and apparently, this is his wedding and he can do whatever the fuck he wants. He didn’t bother to look Micky’s way, but he’s sure the man can’t be too happy about that. The ink is barely dry on their marriage contract and his _trophy wife_ is already kissing other men.

The teenager knows full well who wears the pants in that relationship. 

Though he wonders if Micky’s been clued up just yet. 

Laughter echoes around the bathroom.

A full out belly laugh from a very amused supermodel sitting alone in too-hot water, hugging his knees as he expends all the pent up energy he’s been containing since a certain businessman all but took his fucking breath away with eight measly words.

_“I’m glad to see you’re in high spirits.”_

It’s like he got sucker punched.

A lame movie with an even lamer line flits across his mind.

_You had me at **hello**._

Yunho had him at I.

The laughter chokes off as he starts to feel the tears creeping up on him. 

His best friend is gone, and all he has to show for it is some deep rooted pining, he doesn’t even want to fucking acknowledge, of a very dangerous man.

Dangerous because Jung Yunho is more than capable of ruining Shim Changmin.

He had him at fucking I.

—

Yunho waves the barman over, asking for the same.

His third finger of whiskey and it doesn’t appear like he might be stopping.

Micky and his new wife are no longer in the building, whisked off by several photographers and a multitude of clothing and makeup males and females to take some wedding shots for the dinner that night. Weirdly enough, Jaejoong didn’t want anything done prior to the wedding, wanting the day itself to be _everything_.

Yunho had pointed out a couple of times to the icy blond supermodel that what he’s planning leaves absolutely no leeway or room for error, and that if the weather doesn’t cooperate, he’d be shit out of luck, and sans wedding photos to boot. 

And the blond’s reply?

_I fucking dare the weather not to cooperate._

Oh, to be young again. 

Yunho always has a backup plan for everything, and Jaejoong’s lack of one disconcerts him on several levels.

His best friend takes it in stride though, the happy go lucky Micky Park Yoochun seems to bask in his former fiancé, now wife’s, craziness. The wedding is exorbitant, but then again it was always going to be no matter who Micky married. The man has a taste for the opulent and it shows in the massive mansion he lives in. Yunho on the other hand, is more than happy in his perfectly sized penthouse, needing no expansive gardens, multiple swimming pools or tennis courts.

In all honesty, he does think the match is a rather suitable one. Jaejoong, while a little too over the top for his tastes, has a rather good head on his shoulders, and his ability to boss everyone around is an asset in a household as large as Micky’s. He doesn’t think the CEO of Park Industries actually noticed though, too enamored by the teenager’s face and body, he knows exactly why Micky married Jaejoong.

His best friend married well, despite the odds. He’ll give him that much.

He is also in for a rather rude surprise when he (finally) realizes his wife isn’t a biddable teenager.

And speaking of biddable…

Yunho can’t get Changmin out of his head. 

That man doesn’t have a single biddable bone in his entire body. This, Yunho would almost be willing to bet his empire on. He’s spent most of the morning paying close attention to the sullen brunette who only gives an inch to Jaejoong, and even then, he barely budges. Jaejoong has to practically fight for every victory, and most of the time, Yunho has come to realize, the blond actually backs down before a full out war happens. Whenever he is about to launch into a melodramatic fit, Changmin merely quirks an eyebrow and ignores him.

He doesn’t say much at all, but his eyes, and sometimes his face, speak volumes. 

And it is exactly because of those eyes that Yunho is tossing back his third drink and contemplating a fourth.

Micky had warned him for what felt like the millionth time, that _Changmin isn’t like Jaejoong_. Yunho knows his best friend has it so far wrong though. Yes, the two supermodels aren’t alike in temperament, but they’re both cut from the same cloth. 

They’re the type of men who will make your life both hell and heaven, and more often than not, at the very same time.

He has never wanted to possess anyone as badly as he does with Changmin.

And the word is most certainly possess.

Yunho wants to own him.

He wants to ensure there is no doubt whatsoever to whom the stunning supermodel belongs to.

And that’s the part that is keeping him at the bar, and not in search of the brunette who’d vanished mere minutes after a rather spectacular kiss in front of a hundred people who’d been too shocked to do anything but gape.

“Alone, handsome?” 

Yunho looks up into a pair of beautiful eyes.

The wrong pair of beautiful eyes.

He stands, nodding to the bartender who acknowledges his departure with a friendly wave, before he turns to the stranger who’d greeted him.

“Not for long.”

—

Changmin is drying his hair when he hears three sharp raps on his door.

No doorbell.

Someone is actually knocking, as if expecting the person situated within the expansive suite to hear them.

But then again, the quality of these knocks seem to ensure immediate obedience, for Changmin finds himself at the door and ready to open it before his brain catches up with his instinct.

The supermodel swears under his breath, irritated with his body for complying so easily to the summons of someone he wants to avoid at all costs. Oh, he knows exactly who’s on the other side of the door. Only Jung fucking Yunho would be so bold as to push his way onto a private floor. He knows for a fact that Jaejoong had specifically asked for the entire floor to be out of bounds to everyone except _his_ wedding party, and last time he checked, Yunho belongs to the husband side of the wedding party, not the wife. 

He opens the door, not bothering to lift the security bar on the door so it only opens six inches. 

“All the way, Changmin.”

Bossy as fuck. Seriously, who the fuck does this man think he is?

But again, his body complies before his brain catches up, and the bar is off, though he leaves the door shut, his back against it as three sharp raps come once again.

He can feel each knock reverberating deep in his belly, and his cock is already responding to the presence of the man on the other side of the door.

Changmin wonders how long he should hold out, or whether he should just go fuck it. The man did insinuate he’s a whore after all. Maybe he’ll just give him what he expects, and then Yunho will be gone from his suite, and preferably, his life.

Oh the teenager knows the latter is probably a futile hope. The fact that Jaejoong is married to Micky Park Yoochun will all but ensure that Changmin will bump into Yunho at some point. Now, will he act all worldly like the supermodel whore Yunho expects, or will he behave like the innocent virgin he actually is?

He hates feeling like the only one thrown off balance by the whole damn thing. Three more increasingly short raps on the door behind him, and Changmin makes his decision.

The supermodel pushes away from the door, opening it without even turning around as he walks away, continuing to dry his hair as he heads past the lounge area. He tugs at the belt around his waist, his hand shaking badly and his jaw is clenched tight, but his resolve is strong. He wants Yunho too fucking much to leave this to chance, and the itch needs scratching so badly it actually hurts. 

Yunho is about to growl at being kept waiting when he sees the robe drop from the supermodel’s shoulders.

And he almost clean bites his tongue in half.

Holy mother of god.

And in his shock, he forgets to push the security bar back over the door as it shuts with a quiet hush behind him.

He knows he probably looks like a fool, mouth slackened as he remembers the last view he had of a very long, tanned, and completely naked form before Changmin turns the corner and disappears from sight.

Yunho wants nothing more than to follow the shameless supermodel into the bedroom or wherever the fuck he’s disappeared to, but he’s actually genuinely concerned that this is going to be over before it even has a chance to start, and so, with a willpower that surprises even himself, the businessman turns _away_ from following the younger man, eyes searching and locating the stocked bar instead. 

Changmin is a mess. His hands are shaking and he is looking a little wild about the eyes as he stares at himself in the mirror. He is both relieved and disappointed that Yunho hadn’t followed him after that excessive display of skin. He is still very much nude, completely at ease with his body, having trained himself to ignore looks sent his way. He is a supermodel, here to sell the clothes and not his body. Anyone who looks at him is looking at the clothes and not at him. He might as well be invisible.

He wants to be invisible.

He likes it that way.

But he doesn’t want to be invisible to Yunho.

And therein lies the problem.

Changmin is pragmatic, and a little too logical for his own good. He knows Yunho wants him. That much was made very clear to him earlier. He also knows a man like Yunho will not be tied down unless it’s on his own terms. Changmin wants nothing to do with that. He enjoys his freedom and he enjoys his work, even though with Jaejoong being married, he knows his life will be a little different.

A little lonelier. 

It is this that is truly bothering Changmin. He’s always had Jaejoong. The way blond supermodel had all but adopted him as his younger brother had caused the teenager to resist at first, but that deep seated need within him to belong to someone never ever dissipated. Jaejoong had merely filled that need, but never actually quenched it. 

And then Yunho walked in, the older man with a smirk from hell that promises heaven.

Changmin wants to ignore it. Hell, he’s done a damn good job of it, he’s sure of it.

But his body.

His fucking body is betraying him like it’s never betrayed him before.

It’s like his body knows to whom it belongs, and it sure as fuck doesn’t belong to Changmin.

Totally fucked up.

And he’s done fighting it for the sake of fighting it. He knows this is probably going to be a one time thing, and if it is, then he’ll make damn sure it’s something worth remembering for the long cold nights ahead.

A tad melodramatic to be sure, his thoughts are more Jaejoong than Changmin but the supermodel is tired of battling his own body. Not when he can take out the battle on someone else instead.

He squares his shoulders, emptying both his eyes and face of any semblance of emotion as he straightens. The supermodel reaches out a long finger, tracing his features in the mirror, following its progress down his body, feeling his nipples harden as his fingertip grazes their reflection on the cold mirror. His imagination is very good, and Jaejoong is not just a great older brother, he is also the best (or worst) at oversharing intimate details. Changmin always feigns annoyance at being made to listen to all manner of filthy things, but he is a teenager after all, and he does pay attention. The only difference is, all those stories from not just Jaejoong but the other models they work with don’t stir his cock the way the mere _idea_ of Yunho simply speaking about it does.

Yunho just has to quirk his eyebrow, and Changmin will willingly attribute all manner of dirty thoughts to the older man.

The man could be thinking about his expensive shoes for all he knows, and Changmin will be imagining Yunho thinking about stripping him.

It really is that bad.

And so fucking ridiculous.

His mouth purses as he stares at his reflection. 

“Well then,” his voice is soft in the large bathroom, almost swallowed by the vast emptiness of the room. “The show must go on.”

Do or die. Seventeen year old Shim Changmin has thrown his lot in with the devil.

—

Yunho is still nursing his first snifter of brandy when the supermodel finally strolls of out the bedroom with not a care in the world. Cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, with the full pack in his hand, his hair drying into what looks to be hair tending towards curl, face scrubbed completely clean of makeup, the supermodel looks both too young and way too old.

He is actually dressed too, and Yunho is torn between relief and disappointment. 

The CEO watches the man move, his steps are measured, calculative, a little too smooth.

His eyes narrow.

“You don’t have to walk like this is a fucking catwalk. I’m already buying what you’re selling.”

Changmin scoffs, turning to perch a hip on a sideboard. “Don’t flatter yourself.” He pulls the cigarette from his lips, willing his hands not to shakes. “I already told you I’m too expensive.”

“Do you know who I am?”

“Micky’s bitchy best friend.”

Yunho resists the urge to chuckle. The man is trying too hard. 

“I thought that description more apt to you.”

Changmin shrugs as he pushes away from the sideboard to stalk towards the man lounging indolently on his damn couch in his damn suite. The nerve of the bastard.

He finally notices the glass in Yunho’s hands.

His damn alcohol too!

A scowl twists the beautiful features of the tall supermodel as he leans down to snatch the drink from Yunho’s hand. He lifts the glass, holding it up into the light, seeing the amber liquid with the ice cubes clinking merrily within it.

“Made yourself at home, have you?”

“The host wasn’t very welcoming. I didn’t have a choice.”

“You were uninvited,” Changmin bites out. 

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Yunho smirks up at the supermodel. The man is wearing nothing more than a dressing gown. Different to the bathrobe still lying in a heap on the floor by the side, but still not much. 

It is the smirk that does it, making Changmin see red as his body reacts. He takes a long final drag from his cigarette before he drops the butt into Yunho’s brandy with a smirk. He bends over with a flourish, presenting the tainted drink back to the insufferable businessman. “Your drink, sir.”

Yunho knocks the glass from Changmin’s hand, pulling the supermodel into his lap at the same time, satisfied with the shocked sound from Changmin’s mouth as he licks the younger man’s mouth. 

Changmin rears back instantly at the touch, but he is trapped as Yunho chuckles in his face.

Hateful man.

“Do you want to play now, or later, my pretty baby?” Yunho gazes down at the parted dressing gown, extremely amused to see the supermodel is totally nude. He fists the younger man’s already turgid cock, smirking at the strangled sound coming from Changmin throat. “Looks like you want to play now, pretty baby.”

The endearment, if you can even call it that, pisses Changmin off even more as he struggles.

But Yunho’s hand is still on his cock, and the struggling increases the friction on it as the man’s hand pumps with his movements.

His fucking body. 

Yunho’s grip on him is awkward, pulling at his sensitive skin with each struggle but with the pain comes the pleasure, and Changmin wants more.

But not like this.

He pries Yunho’s thumb, pushing back as hard as he can as the man lets him go instantly, eyes wide as Changmin finds his feet and backs away. His dressing gown is still parted, but his eyes are flashing with anger as he glares down at the surprised businessman. 

Yunho massages the joint of his thumb, unable to hide his incredulity. “You almost broke my thumb.”

“Nothing you didn’t deserve, old man.”

“What the fuck are you?” Yunho asks, as the pain in his hand dissipates, eyeing the supermodel with the blazing eyes. The pain was pretty much an instant damper on the proceedings and he’s wondering if it really is even worth pursuing this spitfire. There’s burned and then there’s burned. He has a feeling Changmin is not the type who takes prisoners in the bedroom. Yunho is far more used to his bedmates being soft, willing and compliant, not violent.

And for some insane reason, it’s heating his blood like no one else ever has.

“Strip.”

Yunho’s eyebrow goes up at the command, as the supermodel crosses his ankles as he once again leans back against the sideboard. The belt to the dressing gown has lost the battle, but there isn’t a single ounce of shame in the younger man’s eyes as he stares down at him. 

“Are you deaf?” Changmin asks. “I know you’re old, but I’m not exactly quiet.”

Yunho leans back against the couch as he contemplates the young model. He’d thought the man still in his teens, a little older than Jaejoong, but even he cannot imagine Jaejoong being so bold. Twenties then? Early twenties? His eyes rake the man’s blemish free face, his scowling countenance doesn’t detract at all from his beauty. In fact, it only enhances it for those eyes are filled with fire.

Lust.

He smirks, as he sinks lower into the couch. “Why don’t you come here and do it?”

Changmin doesn’t need to be asked twice, stepping forward to shrug out of the flimsy dressing gown he moves immediately to sit astride Yunho’s lap. The man is already sans jacket which makes his job a lot easier.

“Do you like this shirt?” he asks casually, dragging his fingertips down the mother of pearl buttons. The opalescent shine to the expensive buttons gives him brief pause, but Yunho’s knowing lilt to his reply in the affirmative knocks out any guilt he might feel at ruining the expensive shirt.

Buttons go flying as Yunho’s laughter reverberates around the room.

“You are a brat. How are you planning on paying for that shirt you just ruined, pretty baby?”

“I’m sure you’ll find some way to make me pay,” Changmin replies huskily as he slides off Yunho’s knees to get between the man’s legs. An expert at disrobing in seconds, the man’s pants don’t have a prayer against Changmin’s skilled hands.

“Done this before have you?” Yunho asks, a pang of something he’d rather not examine too closely filling his chest briefly.

“Many times.”

Before Yunho can react to that admission, his cock is out, appreciative hands fisting the base of his cock. He looks up, his brain and body are not quite dancing the tango together, one a couple of steps ahead of the other. 

All he sees are soulful deep brown eyes that hold a hint of uncertainty behind the cloud of lust.

It is that blink-and-you’ll-miss-it glimpse of uncertainty that gives Yunho pause.

Changmin looks so fucking young.

Too damn young.

“Wa—“ Yunho’s request for the man to wait is cut off as a hot mouth closes over the tip of his cock, and his protest turns into a deep moan instead as his length slides into a tight, welcoming, mouth.

Changmin has zero idea where the fuck all this boldness and brazenness is coming from. He really has no fucking clue. He is acting purely on instinct and nothing else. Yes, he may or may not have practiced on a few bananas with a gleeful Jaejoong, but that’s not the same.

Hell no.

This is better.

Yunho’s scent is driving him mad. It drove him mad already earlier when they were just side by side, but like this? He wonders if he can come from blowing the man, because it sure as hell feels like he can.

Changmin’s gazes up through his lashes as he sucks and licks around the man’s unsurprisingly substantial cock. Really, only Jung Yunho would have a cock to match his physical size. He pumps on the drawback, and is rewarded by a tang on his tongue that he has never tasted before and he pulls back slightly, eyes wide as he looks up at the older man.

Yunho just about comes right there, as he watches that gorgeous mouth stretched around his cock, lips so slick and wet and his belly tightens even more as Changmin pulls back, mouth staying open, strings of precum linking his cock to that tongue. 

A tongue that teasingly, almost lovingly wraps on the underside of the head of his cock as Changmin, whose eyes never ever fucking leave his, tilts his head slightly as he licks heavily all the way to Yunho’s balls. 

The industrialist finally moves, fisting the back of Changmin’s head, he tugs hard, only to be rewarded by a dangerous nip to his sensitive balls.

“Jesus fucking christ,” he bursts out, yanking harder on Changmin who finally comes up with a smirk, lips rosy and shining, slick with spit and precum. Even the tip of his nose is wet, testament to two things.

His enthusiasm. 

And his innocence.

Yunho doesn’t notice though. 

Their mouths finally clash, and it’s more pain for Yunho as Changmin forces him backwards, straddling his bare legs, hands on either side of his head to hold him in place that suits the supermodel. 

Not all caring for the crick in his neck the man is giving him, Yunho tugs at his hands, linking their fingers and dropping their hands to the side. Their kisses grow a little less rough with no hands to keep their stability and Yunho forces the younger man to gentle. It is hard for Changmin has the higher position, but Yunho refuses to give in to the marauding tongue in his mouth as he plays catch with his tongue. He doesn’t allow Changmin any purchase on his own tongue, always darting it out of the way till the supermodel finally pulls his mouth free with a growl of dissatisfaction.

“Do you know how to kiss, old man?”

“This is not a battle, Changmin-ah.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Ah,” Yunho lets go of the younger man’s hands. “Is that what this is about? There’s no battle here, pretty baby. You already have me. Now let me have you.”

Yunho gets up easily, despite having a very lanky supermodel in his lap, dropping Changmin gently to his feet, satisfied as the man sways unsteadily on his feet, leaning heavily against him for support. He cups Changmin’s cheek, and despite the model being taller, it somehow works as their mouths meet again. This time Yunho teaches him how to kiss without turning it into a bloody battle of gnashing teeth and probing tongues.

But once again, he is surprised by the younger man as the supermodel draws back with a sneer. “Old man, I want you to fuck me, not make love to me.”

He shakes his head, half amused, quarter annoyed, and the other quarter wanting nothing more than to school this young deviant. What the hell has the fashion industry produced?

“Alright then,” Yunho finally replies, manhandling Changmin and practically throwing him face down against the back of the couch. “You want to be fucked, pretty baby?”

Changmin’s gotten the breath knocked clean out of him as his chest collides with the back of the couch. His knees are on the seat and his head is hanging slightly off the back. He feels his knees being knocked further apart, and his eyes widen at the implication. Ok, so he might have asked for it, but he’s a virgin and no lube no prep no nothing, even he knows it’s going to fucking hurt like hell. 

He is about to protest, violently if he has to, body already twisting when he feels a moist fingertip dipping against his opening, slicking it up before it pushes in carefully.

The gasp of shock and the accompanying moan as his body actually allows the intrusion, makes Changmin drop his forehead against the back of the couch. His body really does have a mind of its own. If Changmin thinks no, his body goes yes. He can’t win this battle.

Yunho is far bigger than his damn finger though, that much the teenager knows, but he cannot control his hips that press back to take more. It hurts, but the pleasure outweighs the discomfort so much that it really doesn’t truly register in his mind. 

And then just like that, the finger is ripped rather unceremoniously from his body, causing the model to howl his anger and twist to look behind him to demand that Yunho continue to fuck him. Who cares about lube? 

Yunho slaps Changmin’s ass hard, causing the supermodel to howl again, turning around, his eyes furious and practically shooting sparks, but Yunho knows what he wants.

“Patience, brat. Remember what I said earlier? I want to taste you first.”

And with that he slips his arm under the man’s slim waist, hauling Changmin, moving to drape his hips over the armrest of the couch, the younger man now literally face down on the sofa with his ass up. 

Disoriented by the wholly unexpected movement Changmin rears up to protest at the man’s rudeness. His feet are on the carpeted floor, and he can stand easily, but before he can gain his bearings, he is screaming bloody fucking murder into the sofa. 

The reason for that is simple.

Yunho.

The older man had dropped to his knees behind the lithe supermodel, spreading his butt cheeks, he’s buried his face in the cleft of the younger man’s ass, his tongue laving at the sensitive, clenching ring of muscle. The virgin nerve endings of his little hole has never been assaulted by a man like Yunho, and Changmin is vocal as hell. He is writhing, wanting to get away for he is close to being over stimulated already. The teenager is a total mess as he tries to get away from the older man’s very talented tongue. Yunho has a very firm grip of his ass though, keeping the supermodel’s hips down against the arm of the couch, the room is echoing with the muffled screams from the young man who is practically ripping the upholstery from the couch with his teeth and clawed hands. He doesn’t give a fuck about how he looks, his body is crawling with a pulsating energy that is making him want to rip his face off. 

He wants to punch someone.

Mainly Yunho.

Too tight, too coiled, too intense.

Yunho doesn’t let off for one second, his assault on the screaming supermodel is absolute. His tongue is deep in the other man’s willing body, massaging and licking at the opening, he spreads Changmin’s cheeks even further, slipping in a finger with his tongue and the man’s screams get even more piercing as he bucks wildly, coming hard from that, and the friction on his cock, with a howl that leaves Yunho’s ears ringing as he flips the younger man over’ his cock still spurting fluid, catching Yunho on the cheek as he bends the supermodel backwards over the arm rest, practically in half as he drops his head to suck on the tip of Changmin’s leaking cock, his slim body jerking almost violently as Yunho tries to ease the man from his explosive orgasm. 

Changmin’s eyes can’t focus, and he’s almost certain he’d gone blind if not for the swimming lights above his head. It feels as if his eyes are filled with tears, and he wipes hastily at his eyes with a limp arm, to find the wetness is real. His body is clenching so hard, his abdominals working overtime that he wonders if he never ever has to do a single sit up ever again if sex makes his muscles contract this much already. His body is in an awkward position, but he is very flexible, and it doesn’t bother him. What is bothering him though is the man sucking on his cock, and he moves a hand down, slapping blindly at the annoyance.

His hand comes in contact with a head, and he feels rather than hears the growl.

“What is it with you and violence?” an amused voice washes down over him, hardening his nipples instantly despite his spent body.

“A little pain never hurt anyone, old man,” Changmin’s voice is a hoarse croak and he hastens to try and clear it before speaking again. “Wanna try?”

Changmin has no fucking idea what he did with the real Shim Changmin. All he wants to do is goad the man and goad the man further till he punishes him. He doesn’t care how. He already knows how fucking good he is with his mouth. He is sure the rest of him is just as good. 

“You are a true piece of work.”

Changmin’s eyes flutter shut, not bothering to respond. He’s masturbated before but nothing has ever made him feel this level of languid bonelessness. He’s not sure if he can even move. 

He feels the weight leave the lower half of his body as Yunho straightens from leaning against his legs. This brings a frown, as he is rather enjoying the man pressing on top of him. He can feel movement, and he turns his head only to bump his nose against a blunt object.

The teenager cracks open an eye to find himself nose to cock with a smirking businessman looming over him. 

“Come on, brat. You can’t be done already.”

“Fuck you.”

Yunho hums in reply as he fists his cock, nudging the head against Changmin’s mouth. “You can fuck me, pretty baby. Now open your mouth.”

Changmin obeys, Yunho’s words echoing in his head as his mouth is filled. The taste of that turgid flesh between his lips makes him moan, relaxing his throat, he tries to take the man deeper. Somewhere along the way, instead of sucking, he starts to chew, earning himself a light slap and Yunho pulling his cock from his mouth.

“Not everyone enjoys pain, brat.”

“I do.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Yunho’s hot eyes rake across the debauched supermodel splayed out so wantonly over the couch. “Get up,” he tugs at the man’s arm. “I want to fuck you into the bed.”

Changmin groans long and low at the mental image and Yunho’s authoritative tone. The supermodel despises authority but Yunho…he’s a little afraid that if the man told him to heel, he actually might think about it.

Yunho doesn’t wait for the younger man to move, turning around, he moves to the bedroom, leaving the supermodel to drag himself off the couch and follow.

The teenager sits up slowly, eyeing the chaos of the lounge. He looks around, eyes lighting on the decanter of brandy on the counter of the bar, and he gets up, swaying unsteadily on his feet, he grabs it as well as his pack of cigarettes from the floor. He takes a deep breath, straightening his back, hearing it click and pop, before he walks into the bedroom with his shoulders back and his head held high. He knows Yunho affects him, but he will be damned if he lets the man find out.

He finds the businessman standing by the dresser, touching his things.

“What are you doing?”

Yunho looks up, gazing at man’s reflection in the mirror. “Contemplating lube options. I don’t have any. Do you?”

“The great Jung Yunho came to my suite unprepared?”

“Put a lid on it, brat,” Yunho’s voice is actually affectionate as he drinks in the tall supermodel leaning in the doorway, watching as he waves the decanter of brandy at him. 

“Afraid of a little pain, old man?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I thought you said I’d be fucking you?”

Yunho’s smirk turns wolfish. “There’s fucking, and then there’s fucking. You’re welcome to ride my face, pretty baby, but the only one getting filled, is you.”

Changmin has to resist the urge to clamp his knees like a virgin bride, the shiver that wracks his body from Yunho’s words and gaze is not to be underestimated. His cock is already filling at the mere thought and he is more than a little annoyed at that. He watches as Yunho backs away from the dresser, finally picking something, his other hand beckoning the teenager with a smirk that honestly belongs in hell.

—

Yunho makes good on his offer, as Changmin rocks his ass over his face, the man apparently enjoying getting his hole thoroughly fucked by Yunho’s tongue as he bends over, sucking down Yunho’s cock messily while alternating between shouting encouragement and yelling profanities.

Changmin can feel Yunho stretching him more and more, he can feel two fingers with that tongue, sometimes three, but considering how well acquainted he is with the man’s cock now that it’s practically his new best friend, he knows it’s necessary. The man had chosen the bottle of olive oil that Changmin always carries around. With the amount of crap that gets put in his hair practically on a daily basis, the olive oil is a lifesaver. 

Three fingers. He can feel three, now four, and the discomfort is borderline painful. 

And like earlier, all four fingers are suddenly ripped from his body without a by-your-leave and Changmin slaps Yunho’s cock in annoyance.

“I’m starting to feel like a punching bag,” Yunho observes ruefully.

“What the fuck?” Changmin twists around, glaring at the smirking businessman.

“Do you want to ride me?”

“I thought you were going to fuck me into the bed?”

Yunho laughs, manhandling the supermodel once again, flipping him onto his back next to him, moving fluidly and easily, knocking his thighs apart as he pushes one leg up, and his cock in, without so much as a warning.

Changmin’s protest stutters, dying on his lips, his eyes so wide he can feel them drying in the air-conditioned room. Of course Yunho isn’t going to wait. They’ve both already came once each and the foreplay has lasted a long fucking time. Of course he isn’t going to wait, because he doesn’t fucking know that Changmin is a virgin.

The fucking burn, Changmin will be damned if his eyes water, but he cannot hide the shock and the instance of vulnerability and uncertainty he feels and Yunho sees it.

And he pauses, staring down at the beautiful wide-eyed young man, Yunho is struck once again by how painfully young Changmin looks when his guard is down, and the truth shows in his eyes. No matter the prep, his body is so tight, it’s like a vice-like clamp on his cock, and the way the walls of his passage are hugging him has to be felt to be believed. 

He pushes forward a little more to be inside the younger man completely, and Changmin’s mouth drops open with a soft gasp, just as a loud voice is heard in the outer room.

“Changmin! Changminnie? What the hell happened here?”

Changmin cringes, closing his eyes, his arms pulling Yunho down to try and use the older man to hide him from view and the inferno about to be unleashed on both their heads.

“Changmin? Where are you? Changmin? Oh my fucking god!”

The married teenager stops dead in the doorway of the bedroom, staring at the entwined bodies on the bed. He can’t see Changmin’s face, but he knows that long fucking leg a certain Jung fucking Yunho has pushed back and the burst of anger that explodes from the blond shocks everyone, including his new husband.

“You disgusting man! How dare you! How could you?” Jaejoong looks around to find something to throw, but he is caught and caged by his husband. “Let me go, you wretch!” he starts to struggle, kicking at Micky who holds firm. “Look at what your friend just did to my baby!”

“Your baby?” Yunho’s brow furrows as he looks down at the man under him, and then back at the practically apoplectic blond. “He’s older than you.”

“I’m sure he didn’t say that you stupid fucking fool. I’m going to call the cops. You deserve to be hauled to jail. Changmin’s only seventeen you deplorable disgusting fucking animal.”

The shock in Yunho’s face is unmistakable and it even causes Jaejoong to pause, and Micky to groan, holding onto his new wife tighter as he whispers into the back of his neck to calm down.

The Jung CEO turns to look down, and for the first time he finally understands the wide-eyed look in Changmin’s eyes. Those bambi eyes are turned up to him now, his gaze uncertain, vulnerable and imploring, shaking his head and begging silently.

Yunho closes his eyes, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the teenager’s forehead before he moves to tug a pillow down to cover their sides from view, his tone is gruff and firm.

“Get out.”

“No. I’m not leaving without Changmin.”

“Park Jaejoong, I’m only going to say this once. I will look after Changmin. Now get out.”

“No.”

“Hyung, please…” the voice is soft, muffled against Yunho’s arm, Changmin is fighting the humiliation he is feeling and his best friend is making it worse.

“Minnie? Are you ok, baby?” Jaejoong tries to take a step forward but Micky holds him fast.

“Just go. Talk later.”

“Minnie…”

“Joongie hyung…please…”

Jaejoong closes his eyes, body relaxing. They have a code. He knows Changmin is alright. But that doesn’t mean Yunho will escape scot free.

The blond’s eyes are blazing once again when they open as he stares down one of the most powerful men in Korea. “You fuck this up, Jung Yunho and I will kill you with my bare hands.”

And with that, he shrugs himself free from his husband, turning and leaving the room immediately.

“Should I be worried?” Yunho asks his best friend who is shaking his head ruefully at him.

“Yes, my friend. Very much so,” before he too turns to leave to chase his wife.

The silence in the room is room lasts a very long minute after the purposeful slamming of the unslammable front door.

Yunho drops his chin to nuzzle the teenager’s nose.

“Changmin?”

“Finish what you started, old man.”

“You really are a baby…”

Changmin clenches hard, watching in grim satisfaction as Yunho’s eyes widen. “Say that one more time and your cock might get left behind in this room.”

“So fucking bloodthirsty, aren’t you?” Yunho shakes his head, leaning down to kiss Changmin’s temple, as he starts to move. Long, slow strokes as he kisses his way down the side of the teenager’s cheek.

That vulnerability he saw earlier is totally gone, and the original Changmin is back. What he needs to figure out though, is which is the real Changmin. 

“Old man.”

“Yes?”

“What did I say about making love?”

Yunho’s laughter is loud, only silenced by a hard slap to his ribs, and a choked moan as the older man gives the teenager exactly what he wants.


End file.
